To Capture Mr. Darcy Chapter 3
November 16, 1811
Her fourth day at Netherfield Park dawned and Elizabeth Bennet stretched and yawned. Feeling genuine longing to keep the tightly roped bed and overstuffed mattress she had enjoyed in residence, she laughed out loud at the bright sunlight pouring into the lovely guest room.
One brief stay at a large estate and she had become snobbish in her delights! Her familiar bed at home performed more than adequately if not as luxurious as the offerings of Mr. Bingley’s income provided.
A knock on the door startled Elizabeth, and she involuntarily snatched the surrounding sheets.
“Yes?” she asked, unsure of who might knock on her door at this early hour.
“Miss?” A maid gently opened the door no more than a few inches and popped in her head. “Do you require assistance this morning?”
Elizabeth grinned and nodded, surprised that it had taken this long before the staff at Netherfield was instructed to help the Bennet sisters. At home, there was one maid to share with all four of her sisters and most days, Elizabeth Bennet was content to dress herself.
Mesmerized by the hairstyle the maid pinned on her head – a style she would only deign to wear to a special event with a few pearl pins or flowers tucked – she smiled at the young woman.
The maid tried to hide her smile before quickly nodding a curtsy and leaving the room. She did not enjoy much at Netherfield but having her own maid was wonderful.
A grumble in her stomach twisted Elizabeth’s lips into a most unflattering expression, and she decided to break her fast before her morning constitutional. She found the house eerily quiet but shrugged her shoulders at the still sleeping Londoners keeping town hours.
She entered the breakfast parlor and carefully closed the door behind her, gasping as she turned to find Mr. Darcy happily sipping coffee and reading the morning’s paper. Mr. Darcy hastily stood and nodded to her.
He cleared his throat. “Good morning. I trust you slept well, Miss Elizabeth?”
Reminded of her heavenly thoughts about the quality of bed she enjoyed, she smiled. To her surprise, Mr. Darcy smiled back at her!
“Yes, quite well. Thank you for concern, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth blushed as she busied herself making a plate. Once finished, she faced a dilemma. She did not care to sit next to Mr. Darcy, nor did she wish to offend the man by sitting too far away. Sighing, she resigned herself to sitting across from him, one chair down, as a compromise.
For many long minutes the two did not speak. Elizabeth enjoyed her meal and Mr. Darcy, his paper. Kept in her thoughts, Elizabeth carefully planned her day. After breakfast, she would check on Jane and convince her they might still walk with Mr. Bingley and take the carriage home in the afternoon.
November was apt to bring nasty weather, and it would not please Elizabeth one bit to be stuck at Netherfield for more days than she had already visited. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Darcy’s laughter.
Quizzically, she arched an eyebrow at the man, surprised by his sudden deep baritone chuckles.
“Pardon me, Miss Elizabeth, I merely read an amusing tale and lost my composure.”
“Oh, I am afraid I cannot pardon you, sir. You must pay the penalty of sharing your joke for I dearly love to laugh.”
The sweet challenge from her lips inflamed Darcy’s sensibilities and once more he felt the magnetic attraction to this beautiful and witty Bennet creature.
She was not docile; she was not timid. Both qualities spoke to his own proclivities and represented a rare form of the female in his experience. “I should never suspend your pleasure, Miss Elizabeth. I laugh because my cousin played a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse with a lady, and I believe he is shocked to learn that it was he who was the mouse the entire time.”
“That is amusing. But I worry, will your cousin suffer greatly for his mistake? Or is the lady in question an honorable one that will make him a good match?”
Darcy tilted his head to one side, surprised that a woman would worry about future felicity in a marriage beyond the capture. Perhaps she did not understand who his cousin was. “My cousin will be the future Earl of Matlock, and the lady is the daughter of a wealthy baronet. I dare to say she will find the match amiable.”
Elizabeth shook her head slowly but said nothing, returning to her meal. Darcy did not let her off the hook. “Please, I am most eager to know your opinions. Fear not offending me.”
She slowly chewed and then swallowed. Taking a moment to drink her chocolate, another luxury often available at home, but not every meal, she chose her words carefully. “A man has little to fear from a poorly made match as he may seek an escape from his wife. But a lady must be very careful in choosing a husband, for riches and wealth do not always make for a happy life.”
“I wonder if your opinions are the work of true philosophy or merely a contradiction of your circumstances. You cannot say a young lady of a lower rank would not seize the chance at a title or wealth.”
A flash of anger at his unfiltered honesty spurred Elizabeth’s immediate response. “Nay, sir, they are the observations of a woman who has seen far too many a couple shuffle through life, miserable beyond measure, yet bonded in matrimony. For that reason, I shall only marry for true esteem and respect or not at all.”
Elizabeth rose from the table, no longer finding herself hungry and scarcely curtsied before leaving the room.
Marching with more gusto than her usual gait, Elizabeth’s aggravation manifested in pent-up physical energy. The nerve of that man to be so mean about her circumstances! Why, he should not have brought up the subject, with his nonsensical laughter. And what man takes pleasure in a cousin’s folly?
With half a mind to stalk out the front doors of the home, she belayed that desire from a lack of proper shoes and attire. To act rashly now, she’d likely end up as sick as Jane.
Remembering her sister, she took a few calming breaths and planned to follow through on seeing Jane when she spied the library door standing slightly ajar. A quick chess move might allow her to finish her game, should her opponent remain vigilant, before their opportune departure from this place.
She ducked into the library feeling a small amount of joy from her anticipated victory. Not disappointed, the moment stood perfectly as planned. The mysterious opponent had played right into her hands.
With a surge of power, she picked up her queen and placed her squarely in the sights of the rogue black knight. Considering the darker pieces were of a deeper rosewood, she supposed it ironic it would be a rose knight to take her queen.
She replayed the conversation just moments ago with Mr. Darcy and could not help feeling amused at how her queen’s sacrifice was much like the trap his poor cousin fell into with his lady.
A presence behind her compelled her to turn. She stared into the doleful face of none other than that infuriating man who alternated in complimenting and insulting her person.
“Miss Elizabeth, I hoped to find you here. Please accept my sincerest and heartfelt apologies.” The man bowed low, much lower than a simple greeting, and Elizabeth involuntarily rolled her eyes.
“I accept your apology, Mr. Darcy. Now, please excuse me while I find more reading material before tending to my sister.” She walked away towards the sparsely populated shelves.
“Were you not making a move in our chess game?”
Elizabeth paused and hunched her shoulders. Releasing the grimace on her face, she slowly turned around to look carefully at his face for signs of falsehood. There were none.
“Our chess game?”
“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy made a dramatic readjustment of his coat and took a seat on black’s side. He frowned as he looked at the board, then at her, then back at the board.
Elizabeth, still shocked over the identity of her opponent, thankfully did not give the gambit away. Darcy stared again at the board, and for a moment he considered allowing her threatened queen to survive. As she slowly took her seat at white’s position, he reconsidered such a concession.
If she saw he could have taken her queen, and chose not to do so, she would be more offended than him taking her most powerful piece as a result of her blunder.
“It appears I must apologize once more . . .” he trailed off as his knight took her queen. He regretted he had sought to checkmate her so early, now that they were sitting down together in privacy, he found himself very content.
“No, Mr. Darcy, I believe I am the one to owe apologies. It was a trap, you see.” Elizabeth Bennet picked up her white knight, with no blood on its hands, and took one of his pawns. “Checkmate.”
Darcy blinked fiercely as he looked again and again. She was right, no matter what move he made, his king remained in jeopardy and his queen could do nothing to parry the attack.
Drumming his fingers along the edge of the table, he gave the brilliant game play of Elizabeth Bennet one last, mind-searing examination. Perceiving her rising, he called out.
“It would be an honor to enjoy such a game every afternoon at Pemberley with a beauty such as yourself.”
Elizabeth’s mouth opened wide, but she quickly closed it again. What kind of woman did he think her? Did he think a woman in her position would take just any offer, even that of a word she could not bring herself to speak in her mind?
“Your offhanded and practiced cruel games are of no interest to me, Mr. Darcy. Good day to you, sir.” Elizabeth did not curtsy before she picked up a random book from the shelf and quit the library. She cared not who saw as she ran up the elegant stairs, nearly knocking Mr. Bingley down when she reached the top.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth!” The ever affable Bingley put his manners to good use, but the tear-streaked face of Elizabeth Bennet passed him by. She scurried to her sister’s room and closed the door behind her.
Jane slept peacefully in her bed, oblivious to her sister’s horrid start of the day. Elizabeth held her sobs at bay, racking her brain for some sign of Mr. Darcy’s proposition to be false. But the man had made conspicuous observations as to her family’s status, and he appeared to enjoy manipulating her emotions at every turn.
Wiping her eyes, she refused to cry for his caddish behavior and instead walked over to the window where ominous clouds hung that were not there just one hour ago. Scowling at the vista before her of the rolling fields of Netherfield Park, the moody sky ripped a seam and poured showers of water on the surrounding area.
“Checkmate to me,” she whispered before tiptoeing out of Jane’s room and, after making sure the hall was clear, escaping to the relative safety of her own room.
Downstairs, Charles Bingley found his friend Fitzwilliam Darcy standing sentry at the large windows in the breakfast parlor.
“Er, morning, Darcy. You’ve not eaten?”
“I have. I planned to take an early ride when this broke.” Darcy lifted one hand from where they were clasped behind his back, motioning towards the storm raging outside.
“Did you happen to speak with Miss Elizabeth?” Bingley tried to sound nonchalant as he loaded a plate with pastries and meats. “She was crying just now as I passed her on the stairs. You did not upset her did you?”
“Blast!”
Charles dropped his plate to the table audibly as Darcy shouted out. The master of the house nodded to the servant waiting to serve him coffee.
Darcy turned and walked towards the table, gripping the back of a chair with both hands. “We were playing the chess game I told you about . . .”
“And you beat her. Well, to play a game, there must be a winner and a loser.” Bingley reasoned as he raised his cup.
“You are mistaken; she bested me!”
Charles sputtered his coffee, and it dribbled down his chin while the cup was still raised to his lips. He hastily put the cup down and dabbed his wet person with a serviette. “You lost? She won over you? Well, well, well, look how the mighty have fallen!”
“It’s not about the game, Charles. I made a fool of myself and revealed my affections for her, and she spurned them. A more missish, coquettish bird I have never encountered!”
“Er, about that . . . I inquired gently from her sister about Miss Elizabeth’s thoughts on you. As you requested . . .”
“The two of them likely planned this, from the start! Beware Charles, I’m beginning to observe these Bennet girls are much flirtation and little substance.” Darcy scowled and stomped in frustration.
The doors to the breakfast parlor opened again even as the hour now neared noon. With no sign of the sun, the day appeared held captive in time by the rain. Louisa Hurst and Caroline Bingley entered the room giggling and carrying on their own conversation.
When Miss Bingley spied Mr. Darcy, she stopped her inappropriate laughter and stood up a tad straighter. Instantly, she transformed from a genial sister to putting on the unaffected airs she thought a lady of high society should display.
“Mr. Darcy, how lovely to break our fasts together! With you retiring so early last night, it’s a wonder you too would rise so late.”
“I’ve already enjoyed my morning meal, madam.” Darcy bowed and quit the room, leaving Bingley to deal with his sisters. His pique over the expression on Elizabeth’s face when he voiced a future of them together raised his blood pressure even higher.
The pure disdain and repulsion he read in her features pushed him over the edge as his mind began to torment him.
He had ended up in the library, his room of last resort, mostly on habit. But the physical location only served to mock him further. With a great visceral growl, his eyes fell to the chess game standing just as it was left, with his checkmated king.
He scattered the pieces to the floor, and leaned forward against the window, his forehead pressed against the cool glass.
Huffing rapidly until a great fog obscured his view entirely, Fitzwilliam Darcy accepted the fact he stood as a rejected man and the pain felt far worse than what could be called a passing fancy.
You have been reading To Capture Mr. Darcy...
Four days of rain. One unwanted stay. One chessboard that turned into a courtship.
When rain stranded her at Netherfield Park to nurse Jane, Elizabeth braced for boredom, barbed smiles, and Mr. Darcy’s distant civility.
Instead, she discovered a chessboard laid out for battle.
Never one to refuse a challenge, Elizabeth accepts.
Visit after visit, her unseen opponent answers her moves with unnerving skill, and their silent duel becomes the best part of her day.
Then she discovers the truth.
Her mysterious adversary is Fitzwilliam Darcy himself, the very man who once called her “not handsome enough to tempt” him. All along he’s been quietly courting her mind.
Mr. Collins grows bolder. Lady Catherine arrives issuing commands. One insists Elizabeth accept him. The other insists she reject Darcy.
Darcy offers the one thing Elizabeth has always wanted, to be chosen for who she is.
On this board, one wrong move could cost Elizabeth everything.
One right move could capture Mr. Darcy.
To Capture Mr. Darcy is a sweet JAFF Pride and Prejudice variation packed with Darcy and Elizabeth, Netherfield forced proximity, chess, quiet longing, and Our Dear Couple fighting for each other one move at a time.
